From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
Abraham is… not necessarily his first choice of companions. Oh sure, the Fixer knows the Dragoon is a most capable Soldier and for that reason he is easily one of the Order’s first choice of protectors for an expedition like this. With instability in the region… it only makes sense. Which means Falke isn’t offended. Not at all.
But to say that the Fixer is entirely at ease with Abraham would be an overstatement. Torturing is not his thing and… he knows it’s more than a job for the other.
And once again, he’s thankful that the man is on his team.
Stuck between the Palace and the Library, Falke pauses to eye the seat of government - multiple governments lately. His lips purse thoughtfully, face almost hidden beneath a great puff of an Ursur-lined hood. “I think we ought to stop in and see the Warden on our way back out.” With Abraham and Gwynevere, the Fixer is quite certain he’s safe. Even if the Warden is lying, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to show her bias so openly this soon - would she?
So you can let it be known I don't hold back, I hold my own
Abraham normally wasn't the body guard. He was not usually the one chosen for escort. His set of skills were not lacking in the ability to protect Falke, no, but his desires typically sat somewhere in the realm of having criminals brought to him for questioning.
He wasn't going to argue, however. Not with the chance of dispute being so high. Halo was, after all, in turmoil.
He followed the Fixer quietly for most of their journey, Gwyeneverre taking to the skies above them. Her fiery eyes scanned for danger, unable to release anything else from her violent instincts. Abraham tugged his furs closer, unused to having to wear so many layers. Even Deepfrost in Stormbreak never got this cold. The curse of the Eirachi, he knew. The people had sought her help too many times, and she had used her icy claws to claim the region with every task she completed for them. It was their fault, truly, this land was like this.
"For what?" Abraham asked simply, lifting a curious brow towards Falke.
Impish eyes glance back at Abraham, a ghost of a smile on Falke’s lips. “To see if she is as neutral as she says she is.” He remembers something about the Warden looking for a member of the Order a year or so ago. And he remembers that none of them had been inclined to show their faces - not to so bold and audacious a request.
Times have changed a bit, though. Falke resumes heading toward the Citadel library, a decently-sized building with warm lamps in the windows. It’s bound to be cozier in there than out here and with a suppressed shiver, the Fixer mounts the stairs to the doors. “This isn’t your usual assignment, is it?” he asks, concealing mild amusement at his joy in coming to the library versus the soldier’s stoic and broody grimness. Pulling one of the handles, he heaves it open and steps inside.
